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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148830">i'll be your eyes (you be my face)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess'>bellawritess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>emo lashton 'verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>5 Seconds of Summer (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Codependency, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Depression, a love that defies labels, i TOLD you this was going to be an angsty one, id never post angst that didnt have a hopeful ending, luke and ashton live together, only for like a couple seconds though, suicide ideation, youngblood era</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:13:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'cause darling, i get scared for you, and i'm not busy anyway.</i>
</p><p>It’s unspoken, but Luke is pretty sure they’re trading off on who gets to have a breakdown every week. (Or, Luke and Ashton help each other. Heal each other. Same thing.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>emo lashton 'verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'll be your eyes (you be my face)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i am fascinated by the concept of luke and ashton moving in together despite both reaching such low points in their life. like. that is endlessly interesting to me and ive also been pretty Feeling Like This lately and so i thought i'd combine those things into this fic i know it's a little different from my other stuff but whatever</p><p>title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HzpPl5a9EA">Anyway</a> by Noah Kahan i strongly encourage you to listen to the song and/or read the <a href="https://genius.com/Noah-kahan-anyway-lyrics">lyrics</a> it is the anthem of this fic</p><p>TWs: depression, suicide ideation for like two lines or so. this fic is very comfort-focused but there is definitely the hurt part as well so be careful and if you want more information feel free to ask! my tumblr is in the end notes</p><p>um given the fact that there's like no information about where any of 5sos was during this time period this fic operates under the assumption that calum and michael went home to australia but luke and ashton stayed in LA</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s unspoken, but Luke is pretty sure they’re trading off on who gets to have a breakdown every week.</p><p>Last week it had been Ashton, and Luke thinks he did a decent job talking him down from it. He has some practice. Ashton’s always been — well, they’ve all been fragile, from the very start, but Ashton has always been the most obvious about it. Michael lashes out. Calum pulls himself inward. Luke keeps it quiet. But Ashton bleeds. Ashton leaves himself open and vulnerable, cries tear stains into the carpets and tour bus floors and hotel pillows. This is just the way things are. Ashton bleeds. He’s the only one who does.</p><p>This week, though, it’s Luke. Luke knows that because it’s a terrible day, and they’re sitting at dinner and Luke is staring at his plate, and Ashton’s just cracked a joke about something, and now Luke’s heart — his chest — everything’s wrong, and he wants to cry where he didn’t just a moment ago. He’s not hungry. Has he ever been hungry? </p><p>“Luke,” Ashton repeats, but Luke buries his face in his hands instead, elbows digging into the table. This is how it is. They do this over and over. It’s his turn to fucking lose it, isn’t it? He’s earned the right. “Luke. Are you — what can I do?”</p><p>Luke shakes his head. “Not hungry,” he says, and then without ceremony pushes his seat back and retreats to his room, shutting the door behind him.</p><p>He feels desperate and stretched thin and achy, feels like he’s been in panic mode for weeks and it’s starting to wear him out. Ashton let him move in to help, but Luke hasn’t really gotten better, has he? Still the same piece of shit he was before, rock-bottom with a pickaxe. He flops face-first into his pillow and hugs it tight. Maybe he’ll be able to hold his breath longer this time than the last. Maybe he’ll be able to hold his breath until he passes out. Maybe — </p><p>“Can I come in?”</p><p>Luke grunts, which means yes, in Luke-and-Ashton-living-together-speak. The door creaks.</p><p>“Can I sit?”</p><p>Another grunt. Luke hasn’t taken his face out of his pillow. He’s just beginning to feel lightheaded from it. Maybe this is the time it kills him.</p><p>It’s not what he wants, though. It’s not. Sometimes Luke thinks he’s just faking it until he makes it — over and over, <em> I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die</em>. One day it will be true again. A hand settles delicately over the dip of his spine.</p><p>“Pick your head up, Luke.”</p><p>Luke doesn’t. His heart is beating faster now; he still hasn’t caught his breath, and now his chest is starting to squeeze, and maybe this really will be it.</p><p>“Luke. Stop it.” The hand moves to his shoulder, grips him tightly, forces Luke to turn onto his side, and Luke glares as he exhales.</p><p>“We said no more of that shit,” Ashton tells him. “Come on. Tell me what’s going on.”</p><p>“You already know what’s going on,” Luke mutters. “My brain is fucked up. That’s what.”</p><p>“How do you feel?” Ashton presses. “Did something happen that made you react like this?”</p><p>Of course nothing happened. That’s a stupid question. Ashton should know better. “Oh,” Luke says, “you mean other than the fact that there’s something wrong with my fucking brain? No, nothing.”</p><p>Ashton doesn’t say, <em> there’s something wrong with mine, too. </em> He doesn’t say, <em> that’s why I’m here. </em> Or even <em> that’s why you’re here. </em> He doesn’t remind Luke that the whole reason they moved in together was to help each other out. That wouldn’t really be true anyway, even though Ashton likes to say it is; the truth is that Luke is imposing on Ashton, and if Ashton weren’t so fucking lonely and broken, if Ashton weren’t just as bad as Luke if not worse, then he’d have never let Luke in. Because Luke is fucked up. There’s no doubt about it. And now Ashton is signed up to deal with it.</p><p>“Are you mad at me?” Ashton asks him. Luke stares.</p><p>“Of course I’m not fucking mad at you,” he says.</p><p>“Then stop taking it out on me,” Ashton says. “Talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling. We can get through this, you know. We have, and we’ll keep doing it. I know you can. Do you trust me?”</p><p>And Luke wants to tell him <em> of course I trust you but that’s not the point</em>, say <em> trusting you isn’t going to fix me, </em> say <em> it’s not about trust.</em> But Ashton’s expression is open, earnest, so deadly sincere. </p><p>“I trust you,” Luke says, like he’s said a hundred times before. “I feel like shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ashton says. “But it’s okay. I know you don’t mean it.” Luke wonders if Ashton really believes that, or if he’s just saying it. And if he means it, what would it take to convince him that Luke hates him? Maybe Ashton trusts Luke too much. Maybe he should say something about that, do something about it.</p><p>He remembers a soothing hand to Ashton’s face, a gentle kiss to his forehead while he’d cried about missing his siblings, stroking his hair until he’d fallen limp in Luke’s arms, mumbled words like <em> it’s going to be okay </em> and <em> you’ll see them soon </em> and <em> I’m here, I’ve got you</em>. </p><p>It’s symbiotic in a dangerous way, this precipice they’re balancing on. Just two batteries killing themselves to charge each other. But as long as they stay in this bubble, alone together, they’re effectively immortal. Like Prometheus, cursed to heal every morning only to be torn apart again every night. And around and around they go.</p><p>~</p><p>By all rights, it’s a good day. A fun day, actually. Luke teaches Ashton to play “She’s Kinda Hot,” and then Ashton goes and does the shopping and Luke cleans the kitchen before he comes back, because he’s just that nice. Ashton makes dinner. They eat. It’s fine. It’s good.</p><p>Ashton goes to bed earlier than Luke, always. He’s got a better grasp on what he needs to feel better. Physical health is the first step towards mental health. Ashton has it down to a science, literally, almost. He tries to push Luke, but Luke’s got far too many thoughts to shut up before one in the morning at the earliest, so he’s still awake at midnight after Ashton’s supposedly gone to bed.</p><p>He’s still up when he hears footsteps, and that means Ashton’s awake, possibly getting water or something. It’s not a concern. It shouldn’t be.</p><p>Then, “Yeah. I miss you, too.” And Luke feels a secondhand pang of hurt, this melancholy that surrounds Ashton whenever anyone mentions his family. It’s a sensitive topic for him more than most; to go from practically raising your siblings to never seeing them must feel like losing a limb, not that Luke would know. He stalls, listening for the sound of Ashton crying or even choking up. He knows his cues. “No, we’re fine,” Ashton carries on, the sound growing distant as Ashton moves further towards the kitchen. “It’s just weird, you know?”</p><p>Luke creeps towards his door, listening. “Mike, don’t,” Ashton finally says; Luke does a double-take. Michael? Clifford? Their bandmate and best friend? Okay. That makes sense. It can make sense. If Ashton’s going to be on the phone with anyone at midnight, anyway, it’ll be Michael. “Seriously, it’s so far away.” Pause. “Obviously I — Michael, it’s not worth it. You should spend time with your family. Plus you’d be leaving Cal all by himself and you know he doesn’t do well.” He laughs. “Look, I should sleep. Talk to you later, okay? No, we’ll talk about it later. Okay. Yeah, yeah. Love you. Bye.”</p><p>Luke counts under his breath. When he reaches ten he pushes the door open and slowly pads into the kitchen, where Ashton is nowhere to be found.</p><p>“Ash?”</p><p>“Yeah,” comes Ashton’s voice. Luke comes around the island, and Ashton has his back pressed against it, feet propped up and digging into the bottom drawer across from him. His elbows are resting on his knees, head hung low, fingers tightly woven into his hair. The picture of distress, of silent suffering.</p><p>“All right?” Luke asks, even though he’s obviously not. Then, in the interest of transparency, he adds, “I heard you talking to Mikey.”</p><p>“He wants to come visit,” Ashton says quietly.</p><p>“That sounds nice.”</p><p>“I know. It does. I want him to."</p><p>"But?"</p><p>Ashton blows out a puff of air, like he's smoking but without the cigarette. "I don’t know. I don’t want him to see me like this.”</p><p>“I don’t think he’ll care,” Luke says candidly. “He’s seen us both at our worst.”</p><p>“I know,” Ashton says despairingly. He’s still talking into his thighs, and hasn’t looked up to see Luke. “It’s just, I don’t know. I’ll be apathetic. I’ll be an asshole, and I’m trying so hard not to be. I don’t want him to think I don’t still like him. Just because I don’t know how to, like, work properly.”</p><p>“Ash, Mike’s known us for, like. Six years? Give or take?”</p><p>“And I love him, and I don’t want to be like this,” Ashton says frustratedly. “I hate — I don’t want to see anyone. Don’t you feel like this? Ever? That if you have to talk to another person you’ll just —” He tugs at his own hair. “It’s not fair to him. I told him not to come.”</p><p>Luke gets it, but he’s surprised to hear it from Ashton. Sometimes it feels like the fame is a forced half of Luke’s social life, contractually obliged to talk to everyone all the time about everything, and in response he has to shut himself away whenever he can or else he’ll commit murder. But Ashton’s friendly, personable; Ashton seems to enjoy creating conversation out of thin air.</p><p>“It’s just Michael,” Luke says gently. “He’s been like that more times than any of us can count. Hell, he probably invented the feeling. It doesn’t matter if you want time to yourself when he’s here. It’ll be nice to have him anyway.”</p><p>“I miss him,” Ashton says, and picks his head up to look at Luke. “Isn’t that fucked up, that I miss him? I miss Calum. I miss you.”</p><p>“I’m right here.”</p><p>“I know that. I know. I feel like I'm missing something and I don’t know what it is.”</p><p>“It’s not fucked up to miss your best friends,” Luke says. “And it’s also not fucked up not to.”</p><p>“We spend every fucking second together and it drives me crazy,” Ashton says weakly, “and then we’re separated and I miss everyone so much it hurts. Luke, if you hadn’t moved in I think I would have, like. I don’t know.” </p><p>Luke knows, but neither of them are going to say it.</p><p>“Hey,” he says. “I’m the one who’s lucky to have you, not the other way around.”</p><p>Ashton shuts his eyes and holds out an arm, which is an invitation, and Luke accepts, sitting down next to Ashton and leaning heavily against his side. Ashton drops his hand to Luke’s shoulder and his fingers brush up against Luke’s bicep, curling under the sleeve of his t-shirt, stalling there.</p><p>“Every second you’re not here, I miss you,” Ashton murmurs. Their heads are tipped together; Ashton’s staring straight ahead, and Luke’s looking sort of sideways at the fraying threads at the hem of Ashton’s t-shirt. “Maybe that’s crazy.”</p><p>“It’s not crazy,” Luke says quickly. He exhales. “I’m not, like...going anywhere, you know? I need you too.”</p><p>“Not as much as I need you,” Ashton says. He’s just like this sometimes. Blunt to a degree that makes you wonder if he’s being genuine. But Ashton’s always genuine. There’s not a truly dishonest bone in his body. </p><p>Luke doesn’t answer that. There’s no way to know whether or not it’s true.</p><p>“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” he asks. </p><p>Ashton nods. “I love you, you know?” he says, and Luke does know, but it doesn’t hurt to hear it.</p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p>“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Never mind.”</p><p>“Of course it’s the same,” Luke argues. “How can it not be the same? What, you think I wouldn’t drown without you?”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant.”</p><p>“What did you mean?”</p><p>“Not now,” Ashton says, sighing. “It’s — sorry. I know I brought it up but not tonight, Luke. I’m tired.”</p><p>Luke rests a hand on Ashton’s knee and rubs circles against the fabric of his joggers. “Okay. That’s okay. Bedtime, then?”</p><p>“Think so,” Ashton mumbles.</p><p>They stand, brush themselves off, return to Luke’s room with arms loosely linked. Ashton crawls under the covers and Luke is close behind. This is a practiced enough routine that Luke knows his choreography. He drapes his arm over Ashton’s waist and the other under his head, and Ashton sinks back into Luke’s chest until it’s hard to tell if they’re still autonomous individuals or just one big super-person. One mega band member full of sadness and pain and despair and a lot of broken music. Minor key people.</p><p>“I swear we don’t have to talk about it,” Luke whispers, “but I love you, too. However you meant it, that’s how I mean it.”</p><p>“You can’t say that if you don’t know,” Ashton whispers back.</p><p>“Well, I love you,” Luke responds. “Full stop, no qualifiers. Even if you didn’t love me I still would.”</p><p>Ashton sighs. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”</p><p>“Sure, or whenever. Or never, if that’s what you want. I’m just telling you.” He flattens his palm against Ashton’s heart. Ashton covers it with his own hand.</p><p>“Okay,” he says softly. “Goodnight.”</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p>Luke falls asleep to Ashton's steady breathing, and he thinks, terrifyingly, that he could get used to this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>im on tumblr <a href="http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/">@clumsyclifford</a> thanks love you bye</p></blockquote></div></div>
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